


Hands and teeth

by NapSinner (EquineDork)



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blind Character, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Disabled Character, Fantrolls, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, NSFW, Sexual Inexperience, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquineDork/pseuds/NapSinner
Summary: Lanexi comes home from a particularly rough night at work, seems his hive-keeper is working a little late tonight.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Hands and teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for like a month now, I absolutely do not write so be gentle with me, ive not written anything like this in quite a while haha. Anyway, I hope it's entertaining in some way!
> 
> (In case its not super clear, Hazmat has terrible vision, everything that isnt filthy in some way is dull, dark and blurry, in his eyes, bacteria kinda glows. I wanna focus more on that another time maybe)
> 
> Immmm gunna do some art for this at some point too <3

Hands and teeth, flesh and flesh, fluid spills, purple and yellow. Grey walls adorned with yellow ribbons. Claws. desaturated frames peppered with gold glitter. Teeth. Springs whine, a moan rises from his throat, hands are thrown, sparks rain down, glowing blue. 

A figure stands alone within the steel embrace of an elevator. His name is Lanexi Cranit and he’s moments away from reaching the sanctuary of his hive. Of all places, the top of a luxury hivestem is the last place one would expect a troll of his stature to reside. He’s merely a goldblood, as one may tell from the mustard yellow liquid meandering across his grey wrists, his flesh weeping calmly from fresh wounds, new blood mingles with older stains atop the carpet below his platform heels, it isn’t the first time he’s returned home from a gig with so many unwelcome modifications like this; still, it’s been worse..

If not for the ache in his bones, he’d be more concerned about the tell-tale trail of yellow he’s leaving behind, but things like that aren’t his business. Messes and such, scourging, purifying. A trade reserved for trolls of a different quality, which isn’t to say Lanexi himself is cut from purple silk, the highbloods simply prefer to see him bound and gagged with it. Such treatment doesn’t fall to every troll in his caste, just a select few for one reason or another, perhaps for something as simple as yearning for your existence to mean something more.

Hazmat had no such desire. He himself was a goldblood much like Lanexi. However, unlike Lanexi, he preferred that which was beyond his control to remain simple and out of his meticulously combed hair. Hazmat had been maintaining Lanexi’s hive for the best part of the night. He didn't consider cleaning his job, to him it was a profession. He wasn't just some throwaway lowblood janitor, he took everything he did very seriously. Efficient and trustworthy, Hazmat didn't ask questions and he didn't cut corners. Hazmat and Lanexi’s differences were vast, and yet they were both considered valuable to those above them for these skills they possessed.

Both Lanexi and Hazmat had their reasons for being present in such a prestigious neighborhood, and there was just enough crossover that ensured their blood mostly remained in their veins and off the walls. Hazmat’s strengths lay within his ability to eradicate stains and bacteria to such an efficiency that the tarnished became almost fully rejuvenated, not a single trace of filth (or DNA) would remain, his talents came as a blessing to trolls with something to hide, an asset to any sleazy indigo or violet who had a reputation to maintain. When they created an anti bacterial cleaner that destroyed 99.9% of bacteria; he came for that last 0.001% and he certainly didn’t come to make friends. 

“You’re bleeding again.” Says Hazmat. Lanexi leans in the doorway, his faux lusus pelt coat hanging delicately on his shoulders in an attempt to protect it from stains. Hazmat would have it glowing white again in an instant, but laundry didn't fall under his assigned chores. Lanexi stumbles in a moment later, shedding his coat onto the immaculate carpet before finding himself strewn dramatically across one of his couches. The upholstery was a taut, silky leather, a solid and confident shape of neon yellow. A piece of furniture that seemed like it was trying its hardest to pass for a piece of abstract art. 

He’s drained not from his wounds or blood loss, more rather from the high level of physical activity his career demands. Lanexi is an aspiring actor, some would take one look at him and figure he has it all, but landing gigs is an ongoing war for him and his agency. After all, nobody wants a goldblood like him in front of the camera; they desire trolls like him to be behind it. 

Lanexi runs a hand through his long silky hair, saying nothing at first.

With his coat shed, his long spindly arms are exposed. Lanexi’s black tank top clings to his back and shoulders, the material is heavy and slick, black fabric visibly damp and the scent of honey blood is mingling in the air whilst warring for dominance with one of Hazmat’s favorite air-fresheners. 

This doesn't go undetected by Hazmat, not for a second. His eyes are made for this kind of thing. To be skilled at eradicating everything, it’s handy to be able to locate everything. Those eyes are capable of highlighting every flake of dirt, each grain of dust, every inch of bacteria, Nothing too small, fingerprints included. No imperfection can elude him. A gaze that can highlight filth and germs may seem like a super power, but for Hazmat it’s become a living hell. It lands him a lot of jobs, but in many other ways he considers it a hindrance. In truth he would trade absolutely everything to be able to see the world through ordinary eyes, though you’ll never hear him say that himself.

Lanexi’s silence stems from sleepiness, not from disdain or unkindness, though at first it seems as though he isn't even aware his hivekeeper is even present. Hazmat remains stood beyond the couch, removing one pair of gloves and quickly replacing them with another. 

“You know I can’t talk about it.” Lanexi eventually responds. A neutral energy to his words, the tiredness has an aftertaste brought on by repetition. “I’m aware.” Hazmat would retort bitterly. He then makes his way towards a shelving unit and begins to quietly dig through boxes, seemingly in search of something.

Lanexi remains where he is, gaze locked upon the wall of glass that overlooks the city his hivestem is located in. The sounds of the street below are but a dull buzz that encases his hive, he’s aware it’s there, but very little sound manages to break through the glass. It’s a kind of noise that can be physically felt, but not listened to. The lights of the city glow in a sort of rainbow, though there’s a definite lean towards the colder tones, and a few greens and jades thrown in for variety. Golds, rusts, and reds seem to be almost entirely absent in this place. Lanexi’s windows give off a glow of a deep blue; false advertising, but it’s just safer this way. 

The warmth of the room holds the scrawny model in a safe embrace, right here on his couch he feels as though he can be at peace, and while he’s here nothing could ever get any worse. A dream at best, but he’s agreed to try living in the now. 

“Take off your top.” Hazmat asks. The couch shifting beneath Lanexi as Hazmat takes a seat beside him, he has a plastic case in his hands which happens to be a first aid kit. There’s lots of these dotted around the place for such occasions, it isn't as though he has to buy them himself, medical supplies tend to arrive in care packages from his fans rather often, as much as they love to see him in pain, their thinkpans would still boil over with concern for their favorite troll’s wellbeing. This one in particular was planted by Hazmat himself- he simply doesn’t trust anything that arrives in Lanexi’s fan mail these days.

Lanexi’s eyes become open, having closed not too long ago. Blurred shapes of cloudy grey, honey and red come into focus at a snail's pace. There the other troll sits with a very clean rag in his hand, eyes feeling devoid of anything other than frustration. “Not the first time i’ve heard that one today- at least you asked nicely though~” Lanexi would reply sluggishly, he tips his head to the side and grins, sticking both tips of his tongue out over his bottom lip. Hazmat grimaces and tuts. “..Just take it off, would you?” He asks again, he speaks firmly, yet from a place of concern. 

Lanexi’s hands reach tiredly for the zipper of his crop top and proceed to do as he’d been asked. The zipper is withdrawn in a much faster motion, exposing a broad strip of taut grey skin; the fabric doesn’t part. His top is still held in place by the grip of the wounds that litter his chest. Hazmat, becoming impatient, closes the space between the two a tad and leans over, he gently peels the coverings back, starting very slow. When Lanexi flinches and grits his teeth, he peels even more slowly. “Sorry.” He says once, stern gaze softening as the deep golden welts in his grey flesh are finally revealed, there’s more yellow than grey in most places, but from here he can see that things just appear worse than they actually are. 

Hazmat swallows a lump, Lanexi rests his head atop the back of the couch, silky black waves crawling along the upholstery of his couch, chest rising and falling under the cold touch of the damp rag Hazmat is attempting to groom him with. “They were pretty relentless today, hm?” Hazmat says, his tone is hushed under the tranquil atmosphere of the dimly lit room. “Mhm…” Lanexi replies softly, try as he might, he can't help his hiss and flinch under Hazmat’s gentle touches. This kind of weakness, pure pain, raw discomfort, the way the tears collected in the corners of his blue eyes, it was something that no camera would ever capture. 

Lanexi watched Hazmat’s touches with a peculiar curiosity, his blue eyes following latex gloves as they ran slowly over roads of gold, exploring his chipped abdominals and reducing smeared clouds of blood to nothing but chemtrails in a grey sky. Gentle hands had come in to fix the damage done by hungry claws. Lanexi appreciated Hazmat’s kindness; perhaps in more ways than he’d have liked.

To be put bluntly, Lanexi still absolutely reeked of arousal. He was a seasoned pro at concealing this kind of thing, but some elements were beyond even his control. The scent of blood did little to overwhelm the pheremones that lingered about his person. Hazmat had initially seemed to be swimming in it with confidence, this precise situation wasn’t new. It was no secret to him that Lanexi had been accepting roles in a lot of hardcore pail flicks recently. 

When it boiled down to it, the only real harm seemed to fall back on Lanexi himself. It wasn’t Hazmat’s place to say anything or get involved, he repeated this to himself in his head, whilst becoming more and more involved within Lanexis affairs as time went on. It was kind of inevitable, spending so much time within another’s nest and maintaining some of the more intimate cracks and corners of their hive.

“Ah-...haah…” Grey skin tensed and recoiled as Hazmat ran his cloth over a particularly sore spot. Lanexi melted into something of a whimper, a pathetic noise fell through grit teeth. Hazmat’s gaze sat on Lanexi’s flushed features for only a moment before he quickly looked away again. A warmth threatened the corners of his splotchy cheeks. Lanexi sat up slightly with the intention of shucking off the blood soiled top he’d worn home, It was sentenced to the same fate as his coat. 

“You should go- I’ll be fine when I get into the coon’ ...” said Lanexi with a tired sounding sigh, head now tipped upon his shoulder rather than the couch, tired blue eyes explored Hazmat’s face. Even after a night of hard work, he seemed so put together. Lanexi felt something akin to envy for a moment as he lay below the other troll, looking as though he’d been dragged through a field of knives backwards. “You’ve done more than enough, I can take care of myself Haz.” He recited those words with expertise, true thoughts concealed. He enjoyed Haz’s company, and he was particularly fond of the way the other troll was grooming him right now. 

“I’m going to finish what I started, Nex.” Hazmat replied bluntly, there would be no convincing him otherwise, which worked out because Lanexi felt no desire to argue anyway. Warmth tugs at the corners of his mouth.

It’s when Hazmat begins to gently caress Lanexi’s tarnished forearms that the air around them begins to feel heavy. Whilst he lays still with baited breath, Hazmat’s touches trail from the inside of the other’s elbow, blunt manicured claws following trails of scarred grey, new and old, not a single one of them placed with intention. Hazmat seemed as though he were about to say something again, but the way Lanexi took his hive keeper's hand within his own had him silenced. Parted lips closed, and red and yellow eyes glanced towards shades of blue. 

Hazmat wasn’t sure where this nagging urge had come from, or where it was going to take him.

Lanexi’s grip was sleepy, but sensual. Hazmat’s fingers intermingled between his friend’s with some restraint, perhaps because he wasn’t sure that what was happening was even real right now. Touch was something that normally invoked a strange anxiety within him- so why was it okay right now?

All of a sudden, Lanexi showed an energy that hadn’t been present in him since setting foot in his hive that night, his arm left Hazmat’s touch and landed dead center upon the other troll’s chest. Before Hazmat could react in any way, the long haired troll tugged his hivekeeper in by a fistful of apron. Hazmat dealt not an ounce of resistance to this.  
Faces came crashing up against one another in a soft, clumsy collision. Noses to cheeks, teeth to chin, at first it may have seemed that their lips would never meet; but eventually they worked things out. 

Gloved hands held Lanexi, shy fingers sitting upon exposed shoulders with the lightest touch. Feral sounds rose from the taller troll’s throat, a soft hungry rumble that hits the ears more like a purr. With Lanexi’s lead, the two advanced onto something that could actually be called kissing, A first time for Hazmat and another of many for Lanexi. Hazmat’s inexperience didn’t bother him one bit, Lanexi considered it refreshing.

Hazmat found himself overwhelmed, but not so much so that he wanted to stop. The two trolls began to melt into one another, swallowed by the couch, and the couch by the sexual tension that became apparent in the room. Hazmat pants softly through his nose, closing his eyes so as to not be distracted by the mess of red and yellow blobs that formed his perception. 

Wet mouths and clumsy teeth; his own teeth anyway. Lanexi’s tongue tentatively requested entry past his quivering lips, the rise and fall of Lanexi’s lacerated chest under his apron, hands on his hips, teeth holding onto his bottom lip, thumbs impolitely apply pressure between where Hazmat’s abdominals end and his thighs begin, this caused him to gasp. 

With his mouth finally open, gross forked tongues touched eachother. Hazmat shuddered a little and his tongue retreated almost immediately. Lanexi opens an eye to check where his friend had gone, he then cups Hazmat’s cheek, coaxing him back down with the promise that there’s nothing to be afraid of. Hazmat obliges, though the intimidation is building to such a degree that it’s fighting his arousal; and winning.

It’s when the weight between his thighs begins to grow that Hazmat stills again. Lanexi seems to be enjoying himself, with the way he’s scissoring their bizarre gold-tinted tongues together, Hazmat can’t deny that a part of him really wants to enjoy this, and so he holds on for just a moment more. Shoulders under clammy grey hands, he’s grasping him tightly, yet his fingers are trembling. Thankfully not too lost in the moment, Lanexi is more than aware of the issues with Hazmat’s energy right now. His tongue flicks one last time, their combined saliva clings between the four mingling tips and as previously mentioned, it’s utterly disgusting. Lanexi brings his tongue back in and swallows once. 

His hands leave the other troll’s waist, coming upwards to mirror the placement of Hazmat’s hands, Lanexi’s skinny fingers curl weightlessly over the other troll’s white shirt before giving him a reassuring squeeze. Hazmat brings his forehead to gently meet Lanexi’s, currently lost for words, but they’re both fine with that for now. The moment seems to be much less aggressive now, jagged edges have smoothed over and for a few seconds everything is still. 

Just the hands. 

Lanexi comes to realise that at some point during that dress rehearsal, he’d found himself straddling Hazmat’s thighs. Hazmat still refused to argue, finding something pleasant about the pressure that came from the other goldblood’s weight on his body, what struck him as odd was that peculiar heat that grew between the both of them. Hazmat had been fighting with himself internally throughout the whole thing, which had made it difficult for him to actually immerse himself in the situation. 

The sound of a second swallow cut through the silence, accompanied by the sound of slick slimy flesh writhing itself slowly into a knot. This was followed by another burst of those delightfully impure pheremones. Hazmat found the scent to be more sweet than unclean, which meshed well with him considering his strange relationship with filth. That moment had eased Hazmat into a strange state of sensual tranquility; at least until he took note of the lack of space in his jeans. 

Grey flesh littered with clouds of imperfection became flooded with an ochre glow, Hazmat slipped his forehead down to rest on Lanexi’s shoulder and he uttered something inaudible. Lanexi didn’t hear a word, but decided to risk sending his hand on an adventure. Lanexi palms at the bunched up apron over the other trolls lap, wasting no time; he then takes the apron by a corner and folds it to the side to give him better access to the damp shape in Hazmat’s pants. Lanexi’s bulges had been throbbing this entire time, since hazmat had begun grooming him like that anyway, as much as he wanted to blame his night at work, there were other elements at play here. Thick yellow appendages had breached the pathetic excuse for underwear Lanexi wore; a black thong that left very little to the imagination. Loose fitting denim shorts couldn’t hold back the larger of his two tentacles, which had snaked itself beyond the leg of his pants. Still bound against wet skin by fishnet tights, it writhed slowly under abrasive stimulation. 

Before Lanexi can get a hand under the waistband of his hivekeeper’s Jeans, Hazmat draws a line. His selective blindness seems to have let him down again. His eyes allow him to see very little, in most cases, so when he finally sees that neon gold shape between Lanexi’s legs, bound down by criss-crossing lines and setting off all kinds of alarm-bells in the back of his mind, his desire to stop is set in stone. Hazmat panics, and shakes his head. 

“No- No. I can’t do this.” He manages, chest tight, there’s an urgency to breathe very very quickly. Lanexi freezes, removing his hands, all actions that follow are delved with respect. He slides off of the other troll, and before much else can be said, Hazmat’s patting at himself and pulling his apron back into place. The first aid kit is suddenly kicked to the floor, spilling its contents clattering all over the shag carpet; the sound of raining clutter provide hazmat with a friendly distraction from the previous sight that had him so overwhelmed. Lanexi tugs his shorts down nervously, aware that having his bulge out didn’t mesh well with the awkward situation. 

Before Lanexi can speak to him again, Hazmat has picked up all the pieces of the first aid kit, closed it, placed it on the coffee table, grabbed his coat and backpack from the rack by the door to Lanexi’s hive, picked up Lanexi’s fur coat AND shirt from the floor and hung both on the hooks, panicked again and realised the shirt probably should have gone in the laundry hamper, remembered that he was leaving, spat out a quick “Same time tomorrow, Bye” and disappeared out the door with an unfriendly slam. 

It all happened… quickly, and efficiently. In a very Hazmat kind of way.

Lanexi finally took a breath and flopped back down on his couch- he then dramatically slides down onto the shag carpet under his weird sofa. One hand draped over his face, the other strewn on the seat. His wounds have begun to dry, no longer leaving a mess behind. Nervously he balls up one hand in a fistful of his hair, petting and pulling at it as his thoughts run through his mind a mile a minute. Why did you do that? You upset him. You’ve ruined everything. Your one chance at a good friend? He could have been your moirail. You could have been moirails. You could have been moirails. You could have been moirails. 

Stupid, Stupid. Stupid!

He shakes his head, eradicating the thought like an etch-a-sketch, he refreshes his lungs with a deep breath, and once again, his arousal takes center stage. Finally he can deal with this the way he usually did after an unsatisfying shoot; by himself. 

It’s a no-nonsense kind of day, He just wants to tie up the loose ends, and delve himself deep into his recuperacoon, potentially never come out? No, he says that almost every time he rests. Shorts, fishnet tights, shoes, all discarded and littered on the floor under the big window. Lanexi barely has the capacity to realise he’s sitting in the middle of his livingroom floor, naked as the day he pupated, but definitely much more decorated. 

Hands curl around a thick yellow bulge, tugging at it nice and slow to begin with. Relief, his eyes flutter and he hangs his head back, sighing good and loud. His other hand slaps for the cabinet beside the couch, with the door open a cable falls out. This cable is tugged, and apparently leads to some sort of vibrating apparatus. A pink light indicates that it’s fully charged and ready to go. It’s a sort of wand, big handle with a powerful battery that leads to a big vibrating bulb at the tip; he doesn’t think they were originally made for this purpose, but… 

A dull buzz fills the air, the buzz gets louder and higher pitched, and then it does that again one more time. He’s quick to introduce the toy between his legs, thrashing bulges are stunned at first as they both fill with that intense buzz; blue sparks fill from Lanexi’s eyes and he cries out from the shock of that intensity. Though alone, he grits his teeth and tones it down immediately, rutting his hips upwards into the toy, he tones the vibration down a level or two and then it’s finally pleasurable. “Nnh….fuck fuck fuck” He purrs onto a mouthful of knuckle. Eyes closing as those sparks fly again. Toes curl, and the toy is pushed into the grasp of the smaller of his two bulges. It’s no secret that those things are asymmetrical, not necessarily a detail that can be considered good or bad, just that his equipment appeals to a broader variety of trolls for how… fucking weird it is. 

Panting is limited to just his nose as he nears his climax, his larger bulge has awkwardly coiled around the whole handle of the magic wand, sliming up a storm and even touching at his grey wrist, whilst the smaller of the two bulges is assaulted with vibrations. It all ends very quickly and quietly. His hips buck upwards when he spills; gold is suddenly absolutely everywhere, inside his thighs, all over his pants and tights, and that carpet is now only good for landfill or an abstract art piece.

Claws grip at the carpet beneath him, fingertips turn yellowish. Hands.

His jaw clenches, a bottom lip is held under four fangs. Teeth.


End file.
